


Empire of Dirt

by Covenmouse



Series: Dancing on Wires [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:46:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Covenmouse/pseuds/Covenmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caught in an uneasy ceasefire with the Reapers, the galaxy-wide alliance begins to crumble around the ears of the very people who forged it.  Shepard and her crew are called forth once again to stem the tides of chaos.  No one ever thought to ask her if she wanted to.     [post ME3-Synthesis; Sequel to Reichenbach Falls]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Miranda

**Author's Note:**

> Empire of Dirt is the direct sequel to [Reichenback Falls](http://archiveofourown.org/works/454083). I'm going to try and make it so that you don't necessarily have to have read that one in order to understand this, but I can't guarantee that that's going to work. 
> 
> EoD is moving into a somewhat different genre than it's predecessor, as I'm sure anyone who reads past this is going to notice. I'd like to state up front that while I've marked Garrus/Shepard, it probably won't mean that dear old Garrus is going to be in this "in person." Also, there are potentially a couple of other romantic side-plots, but as I haven't decided whether or not to definitely include them, I am not marking them as of yet. 
> 
> And now that the housekeeping is done, I hope you enjoy this. :D

Miranda chewed on her bottom lip.  The blank patch on the wall glared back.  No, that was absurd.   Of course it was absurd.  The presence of it ate at her.  
  
It was precisely the size and shape of the Cerberus crest that had hung there for years.  Miranda knew; she had both hung and removed it.   
  
The doors whooshed open to emit one lean, bemarked nuisance.  Jack deposited herself in the chair across Miranda’s desk.  Her heels dropped on the desktop.  Miranda sneered.  “Done playing guard dog, are we?”  
  
“Tali’s there.”  Jack shrugged.  “Figure she won’t let you poke and prod too much.”  
  
“Right.  The ‘poking and proding’ that’s saved her life.”  
  
“Cerberus,” said Jack, with a smack of gum.  
  
“ _Was_.”  
  
Tipping the chair back, Jack craned her neck to look at the damned spot on the wall.  She popped her gum.    
  
Miranda flipped shut the report she’d been neglecting.  “These insecurities of yours are getting old.”  
  
Jack’s eyes  narrowed, her fingers twitching to form fists.  Every muscle in Miranda’s body began to tense, but all Jack did was sneer.  “If you even  _ think _ about experimenting—”  
  
“I have no intention of doing anything other than heal.  As I have told you.  As I told Tali.  And Vega.  And everyone else who has  _ no right _ to—”  
  
“Yeah, you’re just  _ so _ misunderstood.  Spare me.”  
  
Miranda sat back and crossed her arms under her breasts.  “Is there some reason you felt the need to harass me, or are you just bored?  There is  plenty to do around here, you know.”  
  
“Yeah.  Like I’d ever take orders from you.”  The faintest hint of a smile twitched at Jack’s lips, as though that were somehow funny.   
  
Rolling her eyes, Miranda stood and went to the door.  She tapped the icon once, then stood there looking at Jack.  Popping another gum bubble, Jack fished a small disk out of her jacket pocket.    
  
Returning, Miranda snatched the disk from Jack’s fingers and went to the vid-screen behind her desk.  There she paused, turning the disk over in hand a few times.    
  
Communications were hard pressed since the Change.  The last wave had decimated most interstellar methods.  The grand majority of Earth’s satellites had long since been lost.  The few that were yet operational were so backed up as to be nigh unusable.  Even after the Alliance had seized control and put up restrictions, messages could take days to get through.  
  
One utterly brilliant idea had been to restrict everything to message correspondence, rather than hoping you managed to catch the person you needed in the tiny window available to you.  Brilliant...and completely annoying when you were trying to have a conversation.   
  
There were two people the message could be from.  One was likely, the other welcome.   It lacked a label, meaning Jack had likely intercepted the message herself.  That certainly tipped the odds.  
  
Refusing to look at the woman behind her, Miranda slipped the disk into the vid-screen.  A moment of static later, Admiral Hackett stood before her.  She crossed her arms and raised her chin; he couldn’t see her, but Jack could.  She would not give her the satisfaction.  
  
“Miss Lawson,” the vid began, “I’d like to thank you for your help in the relief efforts of Buenos Aires.  Frankly, I’d rather not know where you managed to scrounge up that supply of medi-gel, but it couldn’t have come at a better time.  The people are very grateful.”  
  
Jack scoffed as Hackett fidgeted on camera.  “That being said, we seem to be at a rather uncomfortable impasse.”  
  
Miranda rolled her eyes and, back to Jack, lip-synched along as the Admiral went over the ever-increasing list so-called felonies—many of which she was certain had been signed into existence  _ just _ to be thrown at her—she’d accumulated over the past few weeks.  She fought the silly urge to mime a babbling mouth; Shepard’s influence, no doubt.    
  
“Man, I thought you killed your dad,” Jack laughed.  
  
“I did,” Miranda spat.  Tali really needed to keep her mouth shut.  
  
“I’m not certain you are aware of who you’re helping,” the vid continued.  Miranda swung back around to face it, eyes narrowing.  Hackett took a deep breath.  
  
“Commander Shepard is...accused,” he said slowly, “of brokering the ceasefire with the reapers, rather than destroying them.  Furthermore, the behavioral inconsistencies plaguing many survivors may also be a part of her solution.  We have reason to believe these accusations may bear some truth.”  
  
Behind her, Miranda heard all four legs of Jack’s chair hit the floor.   
  
Sighing, Hackett removed his cap and for a split instant he seemed little more than a weary old man.  “Given Shepard’s history, I have chosen not to make this public—yet.  However, I  _ need _ to speak with her myself.  
  
“Off the record, Miranda, I cannot blame you for what you’ve done.  Normally, I would neither be in a position to overlook it.”  
  
He put his cap back on and pursed his lips.  “As the acting Commander in Chief, I can grant you and yours complete pardon—again, in your case—so long as you return Commander Shepard to Alliance holding.  This is my final offer.  You have a week.”  
  
The screen went black a moment, then to a waiting screen.    
  
“He’s out of his fucking mind.”  
  
Miranda sucked in a breath; she hadn’t realized Jack was beside her.  Jack jerked away, glaring at her.  This time her hands were fists, and power surged blue and crackling around them.  “You are  _ not _ giving her to them!”  
  
“Of  _ course _ I'm not.”  Miranda scoffed.  Against her better judgement, she smirked and added, “I’m surprised, Jack.   _ You _ want her left with Cerberus?”  
  
She closed her eyes as her chair exploded.  The doors whooshed closed before she opened them again.  
  
“Record.”  A little red dot blipped into life at the corner of the screen.  
  
“As a friend of mine would put it:  fuck you, and the horse you rode in on.  Shepard is ours.  We take care of our own.”  
  
She took the disk from the vid-screen and sealed it into an envelope.  Pausing on her way to the door, Miranda cast another long look at the blank space.  She shook her head, and continued on to communications.


	2. Tali'Zorah

“Garrus?”  
  
Her every muscle tensed as Shepard stirred to consciousness, squinted in the light, tried to raise her hand to her eyes and give up with only an inch between her palm and the bedsheets.  Tali rose and drew the drapes over the window.    
  
“Sorry, Shepard,” she said, unsure of just which thing she was apologizing for.  It felt like there were a lot of reasons she should be.    
  
Shepard’s head rolled toward her, dark eyes slowly focusing.  “Hey, Tali,” Shepard croaked, one corner of her mouth tugging half-heartedly upward.  “I thought...I didn’t...I’m glad you made it.”  
  
Settling back in the chair stationed at Shepard’s side, Tali reached for Shepard’s hand with both of hers.  She wondered briefly if humans even used this sort of comforting gesture—neither Miranda nor Jack had, but then perhaps they weren’t the best examples of typical human behaviour.    
  
Before she could respond, Shepard cleared her throat and closed her eyes.  The all-too-frail fingers she held gripped lightly at her own as Shepard continued, “You remember...that time with the mako?”  
  
“Which one?  There were a lot of times with the mako.”  
  
That earned her a dry laugh.  “All of them.”  
  
“I don’t think I was aboard for a few,” Tali chuckled.  “Though I suppose I can imagine.”  
  
Shepard smiled.  “I think that’s what this feels like.  Only I’m the Mako. I ought’a go back to Alchera.  Apologize.”  
  
“I think it would forgive you, Shepard.”  Despite herself, Tali smiled.  A figure hovered just outside the door, in the shadows of the hallway.  They’d taken to keeping the lights off where there was daylight enough to see in order to reduce energy consumption, a fact certain men thought to use to their advantage.   
  
Tali knew he couldn’t see her eyes through her helmet, but perhaps he felt her gaze because he startled suddenly and looked at her.  Had he the means, Tali thought he’d probably run away—a difficult proposition with a crutch under both arms, and a chest still bandaged under his shirt.  He shook his head and backed away from the doorway.  His crutches tapped faintly upon the tile as he limped into the darkness.  
  
“Who was that?”  
  
“Vega,” said Tali, pursing her lips.  “He’s...probably on his way to P.T.”  
  
“P.T.?”  Shepard scoffed.  “Man never knows when to let up.”  
  
“Perhaps I did not say this right.  I mean that he is in physical therapy,” Tali clarified.  Shepard frowned and tried to lift up on her elbows.  Tali released Shepard’s hand long enough to take her by the shoulders, gently coaxing her down again.  
  
“He’s fine,” Tali assured her firmly, “Certainly better than some people.”  
  
“Point taken,” Shepard coughed and flopped back onto the bed as if lifting those few inches had been too much for her.  Surveying the damage for the upteenth time, Tali thought it definitely was.    
  
Where Shepard had, only a few weeks ago, been a creature of obvious health and strength, now she seemed...the grey, emaciated forms of the husks sprang to mind.  Tali pushed the thought away as quickly as it’d come and once again pressed her hands around Shepard’s.  Through her suit she could feel neither Shepard’s warmth nor her pulse, but the weight of her hand was at least some assurance.    
  
Much of Shepard’s muscle had been leached from her bones as her body tried to eat itself in a last-ditch effort to survive.  Some of Miranda’s rebuilding methods from project Lazarus had been incorporated in an attempt to reverse the damage, but without Cerberus’ old resources there wasn’t much that could be done.  Shepard would have to get up and rebuild it naturally.  Not that anyone doubted she would, but the process could take months...even years, some speculated.   
  
Her dark skin had taken an ashen tone, the smear of freckles across her nose standing out more sharply than ever before.  And her hair...Had Shepard even noticed that they’d had to shave her head?  A latticework of stitches and faint scars covered every visible inch of Shepard’s body, and more, Tali knew, were hidden by the sheets and hospital gown.  Only in the past few days had the stench of infection finally been cleansed away, the need to change her bandages every hour passed.    
  
Through it all Shepard had only been coherent a handful of times, and it was highly debated how many of those she remembered.  Not enough, Tali thought, bracing herself for the question she’d come to fear.  No matter how many times she answered it, it never got any easier.   
  
But this time Shepard just squeezed her hand and asked, “Where are we?”  
  
“Mexico,” Tali said, ashamed at the relief that flooded through her.  She added, before she could think better of it, “Miranda knew an old base stationed here.”  
  
Shepard’s brow furrowed, her age showing just faintly at the corners of her eyes.  “What does that mean?  Miranda...?”  
  
“It means you’re with Cerberus again,” said Jack from the door.  Tali bit back a groan.  
  
Jack leaned against the door jam, shimmering with rage.  Literally.  Dancing blue lights flickered like electricity about the other woman’s form, materializing a physical barrier to match the emotional and social ones she’d erected years ago.  It set every fiber of Tali’s being on edge.   
  
“Cerberus is gone,” Shepard said so firmly she might have sounded like her old self had it not been for the damaged rasp.    
  
“Well you missed one.”  
  
“It was a Cerberus base,” Tali interjected with a pointed look at Jack.  Then she turned her attention back to Shepard and continued more softly, “Miranda took it over.  There are quite a number of Cerberus defectors who were willing to follow her to, ah, sanctuary, for lack of a better term.  They’ve been running relief efforts for the area.”  
  
“Right.  And that’s somehow supposed to make up for—”  
  
Tali tensed, snapping back around to face Jack.  “I never said that.”   
  
Shepard groaned, fingers lifting as though she wanted to stretch a hand between them.  “Guys.”  
  
“Yeah, but I never hear you question her snooty ass, either.  Face it, the minute Shep bit it you just—”  
  
“Just because you never stay in a room long enough to have a rational discussion—"  
  
“—stuck your head between her legs and lapped it up like a good little—”  
  
“—does not mean that the rest of us are incapable of—”  
  
“GUYS.”  
  
Shepard dissolved into a fit of coughing, her body spasming to one side and straining the tubes stuck beneath the skin of her hand.  Tali jumped to her feet and hovered, unsure of what to do.  The light still snapping around Jack fizzled and died as her brow furrowed with a worry she’d never admit to.  
  
Finally, the coughing eased and Shepard rolled onto her back.  “Goddamn.  Can we stop the in-fighting for five fucking minutes?”   
  
“Fine. Whatever.”  Jack turned on a heel and flashed a single-digit salute as she stomped out of the room.  “Don’t call me when they start the science experiment.”  
  
Tali sighed, closing her eyes.  “I’m sorry, Shepard, I was going to tell you, I just didn’t think...”  Somehow the words “it was important” don’t seem right.  Jack isn’t necessarily wrong, Tali thought.  Maybe where Miranda was concerned, but the rest of Cerberus had a track record they were only too familiar with.  Still, this was better than the alternative...wasn’t it?  
  
“It’s fine,” said Shepard, though her tone was dubious.  “You’ve clearly signed off on it.  I trust your judgement.”  
  
Offering a smile Shepard couldn’t see, Tali gave the other woman’s hand a quick squeeze.  “Get some rest, you need it.   I’ll try to, ah, speak more...patiently with her.”  
  
She’d just reached the doorway when the ruins of Shepard’s voice whispered from the darkness: “Tali...Where’s Garrus?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! I am going to try and regain my old speed on this. We'll see. XD


	3. Jack

It filled her fingertips like lightning coursing through her veins, boiling her blood, leaving only ash in its wake.  If she were being poetic about it.  
  
Stomping down the hall, Jack clenched and unclenched her fists in a rhythmic gesture meant to calm her.  Not that it ever worked, but she’d hoped that _someday_...The urge was just too strong.  Kicking in the door to the gym, she ignored anyone else inside and flung a hand toward the pile of spare punching bags in the corner.  Blazing blue, the topmost hurled itself into the far wall and exploded in a puff of sand.    
  
Feeling a little better, but not much, Jack continued on to where another of its ilk was properly hung.  She hit it with everything she had and then again, and again, and again.  The light streaming through the high-set windows turned golden, then orange before she stopped.  Jack grabbed the bag, swaying gently with it, and put her forehead to the canvas as her pulse beat in her ears.    
  
“Man, chica, you got some steam built up or what?”  
  
Opening her eyes, Jack surveyed the only other person in the room: short, brawny, cocky smile belied by the dark circles of his eyes.  Reminded her of pit bull.  Vega, she reminded herself, and hated herself a little more for having bothered to learn it.  
  
“What’s it t’you?” She sneered at him, standing away from the punching bag and squaring her shoulders.    
  
He rolled his shoulders, wincing a little as he popped his neck.  “No one goes beating shit up like that without a reason.”  Moving gingerly, he reached for the hand weight on his foot he’d been using for leg-lifts.    
  
“Guess I’m no one, then.”  Jack strode toward the door.  Part way there she stopped and rounded on him.  “You seen Shepard yet?”  
  
His jaw clenched, and the look he gave her was answer enough.  “Pussy,” she spat and slammed the door behind her.  Why Shepard only seemed to associate with the most useless of men —that wasn’t fair.   Jack took the stairs two at a time up to the roof.  There she collapsed against the guardrail to stare at the ruined sprawl of Merida.  
  
Most of the taller buildings had been leveled, their remains spilling through what had once been meticulously groomed streets and parks.  Throughout the heaps of rubble were smaller buildings, comparatively intact but never higher than three stories, even those which used to be.  But the absent skyscrapers left a perfect view of the ocean, still and peaceful in the fading sunset.  You could hardly smell the salt over the rot and smoke, but the breeze was refreshingly cool against the ever-present humidity.  
  
It’d been just over two months since the “ceasefire” began and still fires raged in many parts of the world.  The dead outnumbered the living three-to-one, if you didn’t count the stranded aliens.  Even now they were pulling bodies from the wreckage.    
  
Jack had never felt any particular tie to Earth, and yet she couldn’t deny the primal energy that had begun to stir within her the moment her feet had touched ground at NYC.  It was filling her, becoming her, overriding what little control she’d gained over the rage seething beneath her skin.  That was fine before the academy, before Shepard.  Now...it was exhausting.  
  
Hooking both hands behind her neck, she glowered at the twinkling sea.  A faint creak behind her signaled the opening door, followed shortly by almost imperceptible footsteps.  Jack turned her head only slightly, enough to show she was aware.  
  
“I thought I’d find you here,” said Tali, stopping a short distance behind her.  Jack rolled her eyes and clamped her teeth firmly on her tongue.  After a moment, Tali finished her approach, leaning on the railing to Jack’s left.  “I understand, you know.”  
  
“Yeah?  And when was the last time you were held as a lab rat?”  
  
“I didn’t say I could _empathize_ ,” Tali snapped, squaring her shoulders.  Through the purple-glazed helmet, the lights of her eyes narrowed dangerously.  
  
Just as quickly, the quarian wilted again and shook her head.  “I’m sorry, I don’t...don’t know what has come over me lately.”  
  
Shifting uncomfortably, Jack merely grunted.  She tapped her heel against the roof and waited for Tali to finish saying her piece.  Then, maybe she’d leave.  
  
Slowly, Tali continued, “I only meant that...I may not know exactly what they did to you, and I will never know what it was to go through it, but I do understand why you cannot trust them now.  And I am sorry it seems that I am siding with them.  But that isn’t the case.  I stormed their base with Shepard, I sorted through the data we collected there, and I know what they are capable of.  If she is harmed in any way here, I will have your back.”  
  
It would be so easy to shove Tali away.  Physically, mentally, verbally.  She could feel the urge rising in her and closed her eyes to keep it at bay.  If there was one thing Jack had learned the past few years it was that sometimes you couldn’t do everything on your own.  Whether or not she needed Tali was debateable, but there was no reason to throw away help when it was offered.  And it wasn’t as though they hadn’t fought together before.  Tali could take care of herself.  
  
So Jack nodded.    
  
Before Tali could leave, Jack wetted her lips and repeated what she’d heard in Miranda’s office a few hours ago.  She could feel Tali’s eyes on her, though she didn’t open her own to meet that gaze.  Not that it would matter.  Quarian suits kept you from reading their expressions, drawing any conclusions about their thoughts before they spoke.  Tali, in particular, was especially hard to read; even her body language was closed off, as though she was used to masking her every thought until she wanted it voiced.     
  
Finally, Tali said, “He may not be wrong.”  
  
“What?”  Jack’s eyes snapped open at that.  She frowned at Tali’s impenetrable mask.  
  
Shifting back on one foot, holding her elbows, Tali’s voice took on a thoughtful tone as she looked out over the city.  “You weren’t there on Rannoch.  But you knew Legion.”  
  
“What of it?”  
  
“All my life...all through most people’s lives, humans included, we’ve been taught to fear A.I.  Because of...because of the lies my ancestors spread.”  Tali’s voice grew hard as she continued, an edge of frustration or sadness creeping into what she probably thought was a steady tone.  “But not Shepard.  At least, not after...She dared to turn Legion on, dared to listen to it—them—when no one else would.  And because she did, she not only saved my people, but she rejoined us with the Geth.”  
  
Tali rubbed one arm and looked at the cement roof.  “I had little hope my people would so much as see our homeworld in my lifetime.  Now, there is the possibility I could even stand upon it without my suit.  Feel the wind upon my face, taste the rain without running it through a purifier.  The whole idea was so foreign to me I could barely fathom it six months ago.”  
  
Jack rolled her shoulders to ease the knots out of them.  “And that has _what_ to do with the reapers?”  
  
Standing a little straighter, her tone somewhat more clipped, Tali continued, “The reason this is a possibility for us is because Shepard was willing to go to extraordinary lengths to make certain no more lives were lost —and she counted the Geth among them.  I agreed with her in the end, but to be honest...I would have shot Legion that day, friend or not, if it meant saving my people, even from their own ignorance.  Shepard would not allow that.  
  
“And now...”  She gestured broadly to the destruction of Merida.  “Shepard goes alone to stop the reapers and they _do_.  They pull back.  I know many are thinking it is only a trick of some kind, a temporary victory since... _whatever_ it was that blew the Citadel...but it...it seems more like one of Shepard’s solutions.”  
  
“And you’re OK with that?”  Jack lifted a brow as she turned to face Tali.  
  
Tali shook her head.  “I...do not know what to think.  All I know is that she needs us.  She has done too much for me; I will not turn my back on her now.”  
  
The faint lights of Tali’s eyes turned upon Jack, and even without being able to see her expression the meaning was clear:   _will you_?  
  
Jack ran her tongue over her teeth, making a sucking noise against them.  It did seem like Shepard’s handiwork, she thought.  First an alliance between the krogan and turians, then the quarian and the geth.  The only people she hadn’t been able to appease were the Salarians, and even then there were rebels among them who would follow Shepard to hell if she asked.    
  
Besides, it was only speculation until Shepard was well enough to answer their questions.  
  
She growled and carded her fingers through the tangle of her hair.   Just about to go for the door, Jack cast one more look at the sea and paused.  Tali seemed to sense it too, for she stiffened and dropped her arms to the side.  One purple-clothed hand reached for the shotgun holstered at the small of her back.  “What is that?”  
  
A dark spec was growing on the horizon, barely visible in the twilight.  A ship, Jack knew, but it was impossible to tell what kind from this distance.  Whatever it was, it had to be huge to be seen from this distance.  
  
“Trouble,” she said as the fire began to build anew within her.


	4. Vega

He didn’t think Shepard was awake until she asked him to turn on the lights.  Limping into the room, Vega leaned awkwardly on one crutch as he fumbled for the switch.  The fluorescents cast a sickly yellow hue to Shepard’s ashen skin.  Shadows hugged to the sharp edges of her body, making her seem even more gaunt than she truly was.  He hadn’t thought that’d be possible.   
  
But her eyes...her eyes were the worst.   
  
Vega met them only a moment before he turned away, looking everywhere else and seeing nothing.    
  
“That bad, huh?”  If it weren’t for the broken state of her voice he might have thought her her old self; there was the teasing tone, the exuberance for life he’d known.    
  
“Pretty fubar,” he said, trying for a smile.  Swallowing a sigh, Vega lowered himself into the chair at her side.    
  
Shepard’s gaze followed him, watching as he leaned the crutches against the wall, trailed down his body to the ‘walking’ cast covering his left leg in neon green.  “Not too shabby yourself.”  
  
“Don’t flatter me, Lola, I’m nowhere near your level of beauty.”    
  
“Maki,” she snapped, glowering at him.  Her hands clutched at the blankets, the once steady beep of her heart monitor speeding.  Vega stared at her.    
  
Just as quickly as it’d come, the anger left and Shepard faced the ceiling.  “Sorry,” she whispered and closed her eyes.  “Just...Maki, please.  Not...Not that.”  
  
Vega’s jaw clenched as he swallowed the first of several reactions to that.  You deserve this, he reminded himself, this is your fault.  “Sorry, Commander, it won’t happen again,” he managed to say.  His tone must not have been as easy as he thought, for she looked at him again with a frown across her brow.   
  
“Vega, I—”  
  
“It’s fine. I get it.”   
  
The silence stretched between them like a chord, until finally Shepard hummed her ascent.  Her gaze fell once more upon leg.  “How bad?  Really.”  
  
“Just some scrapes.  I’ll patch up fine, don’t you worry.  Almost done, if you’d believe it.”  
  
“Like a potato?”  
  
He snorted, “Like a Thanksgiving turkey.  Main course all the way, chica.”    
  
“Now that you mention it, you do seem the turkey type.”  Her chuckle was cut short by a hacking cough that spasmed her body.  He sat up, frowning, but it passed quickly and she closed her eyes.  “Sorry.  Throat doesn’t quite...”  
  
“Need water?”  
  
Again she hesitated, her lips pursing and the tip of her tongue flicking over them.  He reached over to the bedside table where a pitcher and glass had been left.    
  
Putting most of his weight on his arms, Vega shifted over to sit lightly on the edge of her bed and hooked an arm about her shoulders to lift her.  Even with his ribs bruised and protesting she wasn’t much of a problem.   It was hard to imagine this was the same woman who had knocked him flat the first time they’d had a real conversation.    
  
He set the glass to her lips and carefully tipped it. Shepard drank greedily, sighing softly when it was empty.  She looked away.  “Thanks, Vega.”  
  
“De nada.”  When she was laying properly again he resettled in his own seat.  “What about you?  What happened up there?”  
  
The light visible beneath the drapes gradually faded as night fell.  Shepard remained quiet.  Vega ran a hand over the back of his neck and head, through the hair which was growing gradually past regs.  He was just about to reach for his crutches, certain she was asleep, when she whispered, “I died.”  
  
“Lola?”   
  
With a gasp, she jerked, her eyes opening wide.  Her head lolled to the side so she could stare at him, dark eyes confused and clouded with tears.  “She isn’t here.”  
  
He stared at the tear rolling down her cheek, for a moment refusing to register the flashing red lights or the wail of sirens.  A shout from down the hall slammed him back to reality.  Vega shot to his feet, hissed at the pain shooting through his leg and ribs, and grabbed his crutches.   
  
At the doorway he stopped, looking each way down the empty hall.  “Vega?” Shepard called behind him, and he frowned.  He didn’t have a gun, no idea what was going on, wouldn’t be able to run or charge anybody.  He was useless.  Fucking typical.    
  
“One minute, L—.  Gonna see what’s going on.”    
  
The doors at the end of the hall slammed open.  Three orderlies trailed behind Miranda in tight formation, each carrying a cocked shotgun.   She nodded when she saw him, and waved the orderlies ahead of her.  “Get Shepard to the bunker.  Vega, look after her.”  
  
“Hold up, what’s going on?”  
  
“I don’t have—”  
  
The look Miranda gave him was murderous, but he tightened his grip on her arm.  “What is going on?” His jaw clenched.  “If you expect me to protect her I need—”  
  
“Reaper,” she said, glancing past him to where the orderlies were disengaging the monitoring equipment.  “A few clicks from here, coming in fast.”  
  
Vega frowned, letting her go.  “I thought they were under ceasefire...”  
  
“How long did you expect that to last, Lieutenant?”  Miranda’s hair flicked over his knuckles as she turned away.  She unclipped a pistol from her hip, heading at a fast clip for the stair that lead to the base’s main communications.    
  
“Stop.”  The orderlies paused only momentarily, each glancing at Shepard before ignoring her entirely.  “Stop!  Miranda...”  
  
“Miranda!”  Vega limped after her, annoyingly slow on the crutches.  She slowed, glancing at him, but did not pause.  “Shepard wants you.”  
  
She stopped at the stairwell, lips pursed.  “I don’t...oh god dammit.”  Whipping about fit to give a man whiplash, the woman marched back their direction and past him to Shepard’s room.    
  
Growling in frustration, Vega turned as well and went after them again.  He didn’t hear whatever Shepard said at first, but he saw Miranda’s back stiffen and her free hand squeeze tightly into itself.   He sure hoped that pistol was on safety.    
  
The orderlies had finished their work and were trying to wheel her out of the room when he reached it.  Shepard’s hand shot out, bony fingers clutching about Miranda’s wrist, even as Shepard’s face contorted with pain.  “Promise me!”  
  
“I cannot—”  
  
Those deep brown eyes, the ones he’d put so much trust in him over the past year, turned to him, then.  “Vega,” she pleaded, “Just listen.  Make sure she listens.”  
  
His brows furrowed.  “Commander?”  
  
“Go with her.  That’s an order, Lieutenant!   Don’t let her...let her...”  Shepard hadn’t noticed the orderly behind her, nor the syringe in his hands.     
  
“Hey!”  Vega’s head jerked up and he stepped forward but another of the orderlies held him back as Shepard startled, fought, and finally fell into an unnatural sleep.  With a gentleness at odds with what had just occurred, Miranda peeled Shepard’s hand from her wrist and laid it gently upon the mattress.  “What the hell was that?”  
  
“She was distraught and we don’t have time for it,” Miranda said with a nod to the orderlies.  They took the bed in hand and began down the hall with it.  “Go on with them.”  
  
“Like hell.”  He lurched after her as she went again for the stair.    
  
“You can barely stand.  Do you think you’ll have a chance against the reapers in your condition?”   
  
“If that thing’s attacking then we’re all fucked,” Vega replied, “A bunker isn’t going to withstand their kind of weaponry and you know it.”  
  
She slowed at the stair and glanced at him before taking them two at a time.  Bitch.  Resisting the urge to curse, he threw one crutch down and kept the other as he mounted the stairs.  Between the guardrail, the ability to put some slight weight on his leg, and the single crutch Vega eased himself up the three flights to the communications room.    
  
When he arrived, most of the inhabitants were gathered around a single console stationed in front of a bank computer screens each the size of a regular window.  Tali glanced back at him, waving him over.   
  
The screens all showed the same thing:  a reaper ship sinking its giant claws into the ruins of Merida, visible only through its own green lights and the base’s highbeam security lights now pointed at its hull.  Slowly, the cloud of resulting dust began to settle.      
  
“Commander, I’m still picking up that hailing frequency.  I swear, it’s Alliance.”  
  
Vega lifted a brow at the title, but Miranda’s eyes were focused on the screen nearest her.  No one said anything; what need was there?  There wasn’t anything they could throw at it that would make a dent.  A sudden feeling of hopelessness settled in the pit of Vega’s stomach, a feeling he saw mirrored on the faces of everyone standing there.  Everyone but Jack.   
  
Lights flickered about her like a Tesla coil, more so than he’d seen on any biotic out of combat.  She sneered at the screens, like she wanted nothing more than to launch herself right through the wall at the reaper.  Tali hovered at her side, one hand reaching for, but not quite touching, Jack’s wrist.    
  
“We show the bastards what we got,” Jack demanded, throwing an angry hand toward the screens.  “Blast ‘em from the city.  Show them we won’t be messed with!”  
  
“They aren’t attacking,” Tali reminded her, though there was a tremble of anxiety beneath her voice.  “Maybe they are trying to communicate.”  
  
Jack scoffed, a sentiment echoed by several others around the room.   Shepard’s plea rocketed through Vega’s head as he stared at the ship.   She couldn’t have meant...could she?  
  
“Miranda,” he began.  She shot him a look and he stilled.    
  
“It wouldn’t be difficult for them to use an Alliance call sign,” Miranda said.  As steady as her voice was, the crinkle at the corner of her eyes bespoke her hesitation.     
  
“Should I respond, Commander?”  
  
“They have to know we’re here,” said Tali.  “We have those lights focused right on them.  What else are they waiting for?”  
  
“Maybe they just want to torture us,” whispered a woman Vega couldn’t place.  She wore scrubs, and trembled as she rubbed one arm.  Still, her voice was steady when she continued, “Maybe they’re...they’re tired of just destroying everything.  They want to play games, like a cat.”  
  
He could see as the others began to catch on to her suggestion.  The fear in the air was palpable.  Too many people in this room had seen what the reapers were capable of, had lost friends and family, had seen the waves of desecrated corpses come at them with weapons and appetites.  Still, Shepard’s voice rang clear in his mind.  And this kind of fear was not helpful.  
  
“Open the comm channel.”  
  
The woman at the console swiveled backward to look at him.  Vega looked instead to Miranda.  Her lips were drawn tight, her gaze scorching...but finally, she looked away.  “Open the channel.”  
  
“Aye, aye,” muttered the communications officer.    
  
The console chirped once, then static invaded the room.  For a moment, those gathered looked at one another in confusion before a voice began to break through.  “...ez...ookin...eas...nee...an hea...”  
  
The communications officer punched a button, temporarily killing the static, and spoke into a mic, “Two by two, unknown, please repeat.”  
  
“...ck...Offi...ez...lliance military.  Please respond, over.”  Tali and Vega glanced at one another.    
  
“Five by five.  This is Charlie-Oscar-Five-Zero-Nine, please identify yourself.”  
  
“Lieutenant Steve Cortez of the Normandy SR-2.  Requesting parley.”  
  
“Cortez?” Vega barked, when the the officer went to respond.  He pushed one of the others out of the way and slammed his hand down over the mic button.  “Cortez, that really you, man?”  
  
“Vega?”  The response crackled.    
  
Barking a laugh, relief flooded through Vega’s veins for a minute.  “Shit, man, we thought you were a gonner. What the hell are you doing in that thing?”  
  
“I...”  Static overlaid the connection a moment.  “...Been looking for you.  For Shepard.  She is with you, right?”  
  
Miranda’s grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back from the console.  “This could be a trick,” she reminded him.  “He’s probably indoctrinated.”  
  
Reality stung as surely as if she’d slapped him.  Vega stared at her a moment, then back at the screen where the reaper still hadn’t moved.  She was right, he realized.  Steve was probably...  
  
“Vega?”  The radio fuzzed out again.  “Please, I know you can hear me.”  
  
It was Miranda that pressed the button this time.  “We hear you, Lieutenant.  What are you terms?”  
  
“Who—Come out.  Let Vega come out to meet me.  I’ll be unarmed, he can bring as many weapons as he likes, armed escorts, whatever.  We just want to talk.”  
  
Her brows drew tight as she replied, “Who are ‘we’?”  
  
“It’s...really difficult to explain.  We won’t fire on you, won’t offer any resistance.  Just please, give us a chance.  We just want to talk.”   
  
Miranda released the button.  Rubbing the back of his neck, Vega leaned upon his crutch and tried to wrap his mind around this.  It wasn’t like Steve to beg.  He wasn’t the sort that would just roll over and take anyone’s shit.  And how did he even know where Shepard was?  
  
“I don’t see where we have much choice,” Tali said into the quiet.  She was staring at Miranda, but her hand had found Jack’s wrist.  To Vega’s utter surprise, Jack hadn’t thrown her off yet.  “That reaper opens fire and we’re dead, no matter what we do.  We may as well hear what they have to say.”  
  
For a moment Miranda just stood there, staring at the button to the radio.  Once again, the memory of Shepard’s own plea rang in Vega’s ears.  He was just about to snap at Miranda when she nodded.  “Alright.  Vega, Tali, and I will go to meet Cortez.”  
  
“You think I’m just going to sit here—” began Jack, ripping her wrist from Tali’s grasp.  
  
“No,” Miranda cut her off with snap, “You are going to protect her.”  Then, in a softer tone, Miranda added, “Please.”  
  
Perhaps out of agreement, but more likely from shock, Jack backed down.  She hesitated, shifting lightly on the balls of her feet, then disappeared out the door.  When she’d gone, Miranda went to a gun locker at the back of the room.  Tali took her shotgun from her back holster as Miranda found a few extra clips for her pistol.  “Vega, I very much doubt you can hold a gun and that crutch...”  
  
Vega considered casting the crutch aside, taking up a gun, and telling doctor’s orders to just shove it.  Then he remembered how hard it was to get up those steps, how many times Chakwas had threatened him with permanent damage if he kept pushing his recovery.    
  
“It’s just Cortez,” he said with an assurance he wished he felt.  “Not going to be any shooting.”  
  
Across the room the officer punched the mic button one last time, “We’re sending someone out.”    
  
Vega took center, Miranda and Tali flanking with guns drawn.  Even from the ground he could hear the mechanical whine of the base’s turrets riveting upon the blaze of light falling from the bottom of the reaper.  Two small shadows descended slowly through it, not unlike the special effects from so many pre-space movies on earth.    
  
Shaking his head at himself, Vega limped along toward the beam and tried not to think of doing something similar only a few months ago.  Of the pain it had led to.  At least he had Tali here with him this time, too.  Still, it was strange to be the one in the lead.  
  
The light disappeared with little fanfare, leaving behind a solitary figure on a pile of rubble just outside the perimeter fence.  As they approached the automatic gates rolled open, and he heard both Tali and Miranda’s weapons cock.    
  
They crossed the distance by degrees, neither woman saying anything to Vega about how slow he was going though he could feel the annoyance radiating off Miranda like a wave.  Finally they stopped, just within sight of Cortez.    
  
Slowly, Cortez raised both hands to show that they were empty, but there was something wrong.  The skin around Cortez’s lips and eyes was drawn, his brow furrowed and shoulders squared defensively.  He eyed the weapons they carried, and made no move to come closer.    
  
“Man, you look like shit,” Vega said the best smile he could muster.  “Glad to see you, though.”  
  
“You, too,” said Cortez.  He glanced to his side, as though he wanted to look behind himself.  The gesture was quick, like he hadn’t meant to, and just as suddenly Miranda raised her pistol.    
  
“No!” Cortez shouted and stepped in front of her shot just as the blast left the barrel.  He stumbled, fell, leg bleeding.  The husk behind him dropped as well, bending over Cortez, clutching at him.  Cortez raised up enough to try and push the husk behind him again.  “No, you promised!”  
  
Vega grabbed Miranda’s arm, vaguely taking note of the biotic energy bursting about her off-hand.  “Miranda, he’s in the way—”  Vega slammed back into Tali; her shotgun went off, bullet bursting uselessly into the rubble near Miranda’s foot.   
  
Stumbling backward backward, Miranda lined up another shot but didn’t take it.  Vega stopped trying to disentangle himself from Tali, staring at the pistol Cortez had leveled at Miranda.  “Cortez, you promised,” Tali said faintly, her arms going limp about Vega’s shoulders.   
  
“So did she.”  Cortez was trembling, Vega noted, tears running down his cheeks.  From pain or something else?  The husk squatting behind him reached slowly out, putting its hand over Cortez’s.   
  
“It’s okay, Steve,” said the husk.  “They just don’t understand.”  
  
“Explain,” Miranda spat as Vega’s brain ground to a halt.  A talking husk? No, that wasn't...wasn't possible.   
  
“I will,” the husk replied.  It stood slowly, both hands raised in plea.  “My name is Robert.  Robert Cortez.”


	5. Shepard

She woke blurry-eyed and dizzy.  Not that the ‘dizzy’ portion mattered terribly; it wasn’t like she could move enough to hurt herself.  Her first thought was that she’d been drugged.  The second was that she was pissed.    
  
“Good, you’re awake,” Miranda said as the door whooshed shut behind her.  As her vision cleared, Shepard surveyed room with a wary eye. The bunker’s facilities were far, far more up-to-date than her other room had seemed, with automatic doors and LED lighting similar to most spacecraft.    
  
This particular room was clearly a medical ward, meant for several patients at once.  Most of the beds were empty, curtain partitions open, save a single bed at the back corner.  She could hear a low murmur of conversation from behind the curtain, but couldn’t distinguish their voices.    
  
“You drugged me.”  Struggling to get up, Shepard glowered at her old friend;  she was both relieved and annoyed that she didn’t have a gun.   
  
Either Shepard didn’t sound as angry as she felt, or Miranda wasn’t phased by it for she dared to come closer.  Shepard tried to shove her away, a pointless gesture when she could barely lift her arms.  “I don’t need—”  
  
“Yes, you do,” Miranda said softly enough that only Shepard would hear.  One arm hooked about Shepard’s shoulders, taking the majority of her weight as Miranda helped Shepard to shift backward on the bed and prop against the stack of pillows.  “There.  Much better, yes?”  
  
Without waiting for an answer, Miranda turned to grab a datapad from a nearby counter.  She leaned toward the diagnostic equipment still hooked to Shepard’s body by a variety of tubes and sensors.  “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Like you drugged me.”  
  
Miranda fixed Shepard with a look which very clearly asked “Are we really going to do this?” before she turned her attention back to the datapad and jotted down some notes.  “Necessary,” she finally said, “Though I had hoped to avoid such measures, given your history.  Don’t worry, it was a just simple sedative.”  
  
A bitter laugh welled within her, but Shepard swallowed it down again.  How many times was she going to do this?  Was she going to wake up like this every few years, Miranda standing over her datapad in one hand, syringe in the other?  A shudder rippled through her body as she remembered waking up alone, though.  Alone, hurt...dying...  
  
“Where are we?”    
  
Something indecipherable flickered behind Miranda’s eyes, but her voice was steady as ever when she answered, “We’re at an ex-Cerberus base in Merida.  Mexico.  We moved you here so I could put you back together again.”  
  
Shepard tried to shake her head, but that was painful so she said instead, “No.  I mean—yes, I knew that.  Where in the base?”  
  
Miranda’s eyebrows lifted a moment, and she wrote something else on the datapad.  “A subterranean bunker beneath the old hospital.”  Turning away, Miranda set the datapad on the counter beside Shepard’s bed, then perched on the edge of the bed.  “How much do you remember?”  
  
“Not a lot,” Shepard replied, looking down at herself.  Her knees stood out like blades hidden beneath the blankets, arms twiggy and useless at her sides.  She hadn’t been this thin in years.  
  
“Do you remember the assault?”  
  
“Yes.”  With a sigh, Shepard closed her eyes and leaned her head against the pillows.  Gunfire and reapers flickered over the backs of her eyelids, so she opened them again.  Miranda was watching her, still, expression impenetrable as the day they’d first met.  It was almost as though they hadn’t known one another for years,  now.  As if Miranda didn’t know more about her than anyone else in this universe.    
  
Maybe, Shepard thought, that was a detail Miranda could put aside...Shepard never could.  There was something unsettling about another person knowing the worst details of her history, the parts she never mentioned or thought about unless she had to.  Most of her personnel file with the Alliance was sealed from casual perusal—partly as a matter of course, partly due to her N7 missions and subsequent Spectre assignment—and her childhood records were yet closed by judge rulings.  Even if Miranda never said so there wasn’t a single doubt in Shepard’s mind that Miranda had gotten into both.  
  
“A reaper came in yesterday,” Miranda said when it became clear that Shepard was not going to elaborate.  “Your pilot was with it.”  
  
A spark of hope and fear jolted through Shepard.  “Joker?  But, what? How...?”  
  
“No, I...I’m sorry.  I meant your Kodiak pilot.  Lieutenant Cortez.”    
  
Hating herself for being disappointed, Shepard let the energy drain away as she tried to smile. “He’s alive, then,” she said, mostly to herself.  It was a relief, after all; Shepard had counted him as dead long before that final push to the beacon.  But the Normandy was still missing.  
  
“Yes,” said Miranda.  Just then the curtain parted at the back of the room, and Miranda sat up a little straighter.  
  
“Not that she didn’t try to ‘fix’ that,” Vega barked.  He leaned on a crutch, his other arm holding the curtain aside as Cortez pushed himself to the end of the bed.    
  
“You look like hell,” Shepard said, with what she hoped was an easy grin.  Cortez answered with one of his own that, likewise, did not meet his eyes.   
  
“I dare say I look better than you, pot.”  He accepted a crutch from Vega, and they limped their way to her bedside.  Glancing at him, Shepard couldn’t tell what was wrong.  It must have been obvious in her expression, for Cortez carefully patted his thigh, wincing as he did.  “Took a shot.  Went through clean, but the doctor doesn’t want me putting too much weight on it yet.”  
  
“Who shot—”  Catching the look between them, Shepard leveled her gaze at Miranda.  “Oh.”  
  
“I’m not apologizing again.”  Miranda crossed her arms and stood up.  Vega scowled at her, but Cortez held up a hand to fend her off.  
  
“I’m not asking you to,” he said.  “No one died.  We’re moving on.”  
  
“Speaking of...”  When she had all three’s attention, Shepard continued: “What the fuck is going on?”  
  
“Actually, Shepard,” Miranda replied slowly, “We were hoping you might tell us.”  
  
Shepard refused to talk unless they were all present, meaning Tali and Jack and whomever else from her old crew happened to be on hand.  She was disappointed to learn that that was all of them.  Bringing Tali in meant bringing the charge she’d been monitoring, however, who hovered in the doorway as though worried about scaring her.  As well he should be, Shepard thought, realizing that none of them knew she’d understand.  
  
“Commander,” Cortez hesitated, glancing at the husk in the doorway, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet....”  
  
The husk stepped forward slowly, looking for all the world like something dredged from a Florida sewer in a dirty hawaiian overshirt three sizes too big, and a pair of biker shorts.  Despite everything, he carried himself with some remaining scrap of pride, his spine straight and chin lofted high.  “Commander,” he said, and snapped a salute.   
  
“At ease,” she said, inclining her head to him.  “Sorry, I reciprocate, ah...?”  
  
“Lieutenant Robert Cortez, ma’am.”    
  
Shepard sucked in a breath as realization washed over her.  Glancing at Steve, she took in anew the dark circles beneath his eyes, the tired lines by his eyes and lips that she didn’t remember having noticed before.  He seemed to have aged a decade in the past few weeks, and it was very clear as to why.    
  
“It’s...good to meet you...do you mind if I call you Robert?”  
  
“Not at all, ma’am.”   
  
“Shepard,” Tali said from where she leaned against the end of a bed across from Shepard’s, “Forgive me, but you don’t seem surprised by this.”  
  
“She was brought in by a reaper,” Vega said before Shepard could, “There had to be hu—er...these—them on...”  He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.  Robert shifted slightly in place, his chin lowering a few degrees.  After a moment, Robert went to stand at Steve’s side, and Vega moved to put a few feet of space between himself and the couple.    
  
“There was one on the Citadel,” Shepard said.  She glanced at Robert.  “Her name was Yvonne.”  
  
“Is she the one who tended your wounds?”  Miranda had her datapad again.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You owe her your thanks,” Miranda said.  “She saved your life.”  
  
Swallowing thickly, Shepard whispered, “I know.”  The image of Yvonne flailing as she was spaced drifted through Shepard’s mind.  
  
“This is great soap opera shit, really five-star—can we get the fuck on with it?”   
  
Glancing at Jack, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed and shoulders tight, Shepard nodded.  “Right.  So...”  She swallowed, realizing she wasn’t at all sure where to start.  The last time she’d told the entire truth to someone...but they stood here with a husk.  Surely they’d understand?  
  
Tali still had a hand on her shotgun, though, and both Jack and Miranda were keeping an eye on Robert—neither even attempted to mask it.  A spark of curiosity got the better of Shepard.  “You just found out, didn’t you?”  She looked at Miranda.  “About Robert.  About the husks?”  
  
“Yes.”  Miranda met her gaze temporarily.  “The Reapers called a ceasefire two months ago, shortly after the Citadel’s little firework display.  Since then, there hasn’t been much contact.  So far as the Alliance knows all reaper forces withdrew to a handful of strategic points.”  
  
“That’s not—,” Robert began.  
  
“That isn’t what we’re here to discuss,” Tali interrupted, with a raised hand.  “I’m sorry, Robert, but I think we ought to go through this in order.”  
  
“Alright,” said Shepard, “Where do you want me to start?”  
  
Tali lowered her hand back to her gun and fixed her gaze on Shepard.  “The assault.”  
  
She was able to give the slightest shrug to answer that question.  After wetting her lips, Shepard began, “You know how it started, you were there...I saw Vega fall, but I couldn’t get to him and...”  
  
“Orders are orders, Shep,” Vega muttered, though his chin was on his chest and his eyes closed.    
  
Tears pricked at Shepard’s eyes.  She blinked them away and continued, “I lost track of you, Tali, in the smoke.  So I kept going.  Then the—I got hit.  It...It was only a glancing blow, I think; took off most of my armor.  When I got up there wasn’t anyone else...so...I kept going.  I made it to the beam.”  
  
As she spoke the world began to fade around her.  Her mouth tasted of blood, electricity and sirens sung in her ears.  Shepard swore she could smell the smoke, the carnage, as thickly as the day she’d been there.  A blaze of red clouded her vision and once again she stood in that damn service tunnel, as surely as if she’d never left.  
  
As if everything since had been nothing but a dream.


	6. Miranda

“Shepard?”  Tali strode to the end of  Shepard’s bed, shotgun hanging uselessly by one hand.  When Shepard didn’t respond, she shook Shepard’s ankle gently.    
  
“Anderson?”  Shepard laid hollow-eyed and limp on the bed, staring through Tali like she were air.  Drawing out her datapad again, Miranda tapped into the detailed monitor feeds and scanned through them.  It was more than a little unsettling to see Shepard this way, even for her, but it wasn’t hard to guess what was going on.  
  
“No...”  Shepard murmured, then shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.  As she spoke the emotion began to drain steadily from her voice, as though she were attempting to bottle it as she always had.  “No, he...Anderson made it.  Before me.  He’s somewhere up ahead, past the bodies.  God, they’re everywhere.”  
  
Tali withdrew her hand slowly, her fingers curling into a light fist that she pressed against her chest.  “We went...up.  A place I’d never seen before.  Not on any maps.  We went through a maintenance shaft, and I can see Anderson ahead.  He’s with...Illusive man.”  
  
Miranda sucked in a breath and pressed her lips firmly together to keep from saying anything.  All of Shepard’s vitals were reading normally, but her heart rate had begun to increase.  A light sheen of sweat began to break over Shepard’s arms and face.   
  
“The Illusive Man is indoctrinated, more so than anyone I’d ever seen.  He’s crazy.  Wants to control the reapers as a weapon.  Anderson argues with him.  I can’t...I can’t make sense of it.  Something is wrong is with my head.  I start to feel like the Illusive Man is right.  My gun comes up, and I don’t want to, everything is wrong, but I...I...”  
  
Lurching forward, Shepard pulled her body in on itself, burying her head against her knees.  The lines in her arms stretched, pulled out.  Miranda grabbed the lines and put them up, shutting off the screaming machines.  The others stared, all too shocked or confused to move.  Typical.  
  
Settling at Shepard’s side, Miranda hesitated only a moment before touching Shepard’s shoulder.  When she wasn’t pushed away, she slid her arm about more fully and pulled the other woman to her side.     
  
“We did it,” Shepard muttered.  Vega rubbed the back of his neck, his brows furrowing.  He was just opening his mouth to say something when she continued, “Best seats in the house.  I think..you...A-Anderson?  Stay with me...please...We can still make it...”  
  
Just as suddenly as she’d collapsed, Shepard pulled away again.  She sat up, clutching her head though she hissed with pain, and shook herself.  “This isn’t right.  I already...I did this, I did.  It’s over.  It’s over!”  
  
“Shepard,” Miranda snapped, cupping Shepard’s cheek in her other hand and forcing Shepard to look at her.  Shepard’s dark eyes were unfocused, but the longer she remained still the more they adjusted.  More gently, Miranda said, “It _is_ over.  You’re not on the Citadel any more.  It’s okay.”  
  
“Miranda?”  Shepard whispered, brows furrowing.  Tears wetted her eyes, and streamed down her face as her breath went ragged.  Her voice broke as she said,  “I don’t...I’m so confused. I don’t know what’s going on.”  
  
Pulling her in close again, Miranda let Shepard sob against her shoulder as she looked at the others still in the room.  Robert and Steve had the presence of mind to look away, at least, but the other three stared openly.  Funny, she would have expected disgust from Jack, not discomfort.  “You were hallucinating,” she said softly, as much for Shepard’s benefit as their company, “We pushed you too hard, too soon.  That won’t happen again.”  
  
Finally, the others seemed to catch her pointed looks toward the door.  One by one they filed out, save for Robert and Steve who clutched at one another’s hands as they left.  Robert was shaking, Miranda realized, and looked even more pale than husks normally.  Lord.  “Husk” and “normal” in the same thought...  
  
Vega was the last.  He paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at them.  “She’ll be fine,” Miranda said, and after another minute he nodded.  The door shut behind him, and it was a quick, one-handed gesture against her datapad to lock it behind him.    
  
For a long time she just held Shepard while she cried.  More bits and pieces of the story fell out between hiccuped breaths.  Waking up in the wreckage, alone and half-dead.  Caring for herself as best she could without any resources.  At one point Shepard just kept apologizing for doing something “horrible” but refused to say what it was.   
  
Eventually, there were no more tears left to spend.  Almost immediately, Shepard tensed and that wall she kept around her so much of the time began to rebuild.  Sensing the change, Miranda let her go, helping her to lay back on her own.    
  
She got up and went across the room to find a clean wash rag in one of the cabinets.  After wetting it at the sink she returned to gently wash Shepard’s face.  It burned hot, though Miranda felt that was more likely embarrassment than fever.  Doubly so when Shepard refused to meet her eyes.    
  
Shepard tried to lift a hand to take the rag, but without the extreme emotional stimulus it was too difficult for her to move.  “Don’t push yourself so hard,” Miranda said, as she withdrew.  “If you keep straining yourself like that not even I will be able to put you back together.”  
  
“I’m sorry about your—”  
  
“Don’t.”  Once again at the sink, Miranda washed the rag out with her back to Shepard, giving the Commander some illusion of privacy.  “There’s no need to be sorry.  I should have known better than to even attempt that.  I’m the one who ought to apologize.”  
  
When she turned back around, Shepard was staring at her.  “What?”  
  
“You almost apologized for something,” Shepard replied, with the faintest semblance of a smile.  It faded before Miranda could even be annoyed by the insinuation.  “What’s wrong with me?”  
  
“I’m not a psychiatrist.”  
  
“You’re not a medical doctor, either, last I checked.”  
  
Returning to the bedside, Miranda found the tubes Shepard had ripped away, sanitized the connectors, and reconnected them.  Already Shepard’s eyelids were beginning to sag, her voice slurred and weary.  She’d exhausted herself in so short a time...but that was for everyone’s benefit, Miranda thought.  The last thing they needed was a bedridden, active-minded Shepard to wrangle.    
  
“I think you know as well as I,” she said at last.  “It isn’t uncommon, and we both know you’ve been through more than enough to trigger it.  I’d say you were past due.”  
  
“But I’m not—” Shepard began, then scrunched her eyes.  “I’ve never...It was no worse than...”  
  
Sitting again on the edge of the bed, Miranda took one of Shepard’s hands to get her attention.  She’d tried over the past several years to refrain from commenting on most of what she knew about Shepard’s past.  Shepard never mentioned it, never asked her about the invasive research that had gone into the rebuilding of her.  Miranda had felt it was better not to poke her nose any more into Shepard’s private affairs than she already had.    
  
But some things could not be helped.  
  
“When you were first returned to the Alliance you spent three days in their custody,” she said as gently as she could.  “Every moment you were conscious you spent talking to your sister.”  
  
“Lilo’s dead,” Shepard responded tonelessly.  
  
“I know.  And you know.  And given what you just told me, I would wager this last experience was a little closer to home than killing plant-zombies, or rescuing dignitaries from enraged batarians.  
  
“Now, do you think you can sleep on your own, or do you need...?”  
  
For a moment Shepard considered this, eyes focused on the wall but staring through it.  “No,” she said finally.  “I don’t need drugs.”  
  
“Good.”  Miranda dropped her hand and left her datapad on the counter beside Shepard after unlocking the door.  “Use this to signal if you need anything...anything at all.”  
  
Shepard nodded, but her eyes were already closed and her face turned away.  
  
Miranda waited until the door closed behind her to address those still waiting outside.  “We’re not pushing her.”  
  
“We heard you the first time,” Tali snapped.  She slumped a second later, muttering an apology under her breath and putting her hand over her visor.  These little outbursts were becoming so normal from her that Miranda didn’t bother to get worked up over it.  “I think we all understand the severity of what just happened.  It is...more than a little disconcerting, but understandable.”  
  
Jack snorted.  She had her hands shoved in the pockets of her baggy cargos, and was staring at the opposite end of the hall.  “We need answers.  We’re running out of time.”  
  
“Perhaps,” was all Miranda said.  She walked past them, gesturing for them to follow.  Only Vega did without hesitation, but soon enough there were five sets of footsteps behind her.  “They’re bluffing.  They wouldn’t have tried so hard to negotiate if they weren’t.”  
  
“Who is?” asked Vega.  
  
“You haven’t even heard our—” began Steve.  
  
“Not that,” Miranda replied, but held up a hand.  “And not here.”  
  
A short while later they were holed up in Miranda’s quarters, little bigger than her room had been on the Normandy.  She’d changed quickly in the bathroom, wanting to be free of the tear- and snot-stained shirt from before.    
  
Once everyone was settled, she looked at Robert.  “I suppose we won’t be hearing from Shepard now.  That does leave your, ah...people to deal with.”  
  
Robert shifted uneasily.  He sat on the floor, letting Steve have one of the few chairs her office offered, and rocked in place a brief moment.  “Shepard’s version of events is what we came for, in a manner of speaking,” he said, “Though I think we know quite a bit more than you do, already.  It’s a part of an ongoing...investigation we’re running.”  
  
“Investigation of what?”  Tali crossed her arms.   
  
“The Catalyst.”  
  
“Trying to shut it down?”  Jack lifted a brow, glowering at Robert.  
  
He hesitated.  “Perhaps.  We’re rather divided on the subject, at current.”  
  
“And you somehow think we’re going to help you, when we’re the ones who activated it?”  The smile twitching at Jack’s lips was almost feral.  
  
But Robert shook his head.  “You may have weaponized it, but you didn’t activate the Catalyst.  It was already active.  It had been for millennia.”  
  
“Well, yes, it was the Citadel after all—”  
  
Robert cut Tali off with another shake of his head.  “No.  The Citadel is attached to the Catalyst, but they are not the same structure.”  He paused, suddenly cocking his head to one side like a dog listening to something in the distance.  “Actually, it is more the other way around.  The Catalyst is dependent on the Citadel’s power structures, but the Citadel can function without the Catalyst.  Assuming the Citadel were not in pieces, which it is.”  
  
“And Shepard knows this?”  Vega slowly levered himself onto the floor and stretched his bad leg out before him.  
  
“She must.”  Robert shrugged.  “We feel that what occurred would have required authorization from the Catalyst.  It has not changed its directive in millennia, therefore it follows that someone influenced it.  If it wasn’t her, it must have been the Admiral or the Illusive Man.”  
  
Light lightning going off in her head, realization struck.  Miranda stood, staring at Robert.  “The Catalyst controlled you?”  
  
“Yes.  It is what created the Reapers, and what controlled them—us—until two months ago.”  
  
Jack swore, Vaga clenched his fists, Tali held herself a little more tightly.  Miranda refused to react.  Being fucked over was such a constant state of existence, what point was there in acting surprised?  “Could it control you again?”  
  
“That’s why there’s the debate,” Robert said, clutching at his ankles like a child.  “We returned to the Citadel when Shepard set off an old distress beacon.  During her extraction we became aware of that the Catalyst was yet online—we had thought it destroyed in the explosion.  
  
“By that time the Allied forces here had already demanded an explanation for our retreat and the problems plaguing many survivors.  We didn’t know what happened either, but they’ve refused to accept that.  Which is why I protested—”  
  
“Wait,” Jack stepped toward him, the faintest hint of blue flickering about her.  “What problems?”  
  
Robert’s green-lit gaze was steady as he answered, “The ones you’re displaying, not to put too fine a point on it.  Extreme emotional disconcordance, problems with memory loss or hyper awareness, many biotics reporting extreme surges in power, and many organics gaining natural biotic abilities they did not have previously.”   
  
Jack rounded on Miranda.  “You knew about this?”  
  
“No,” Miranda said steadily, though it was all she could do to keep herself from flaring as Jack had.  Only years of hard won self control kept it at bay.  “I have no confirmation that this is a wide-scale problem, only a few incidents have been reported among our own people.”  She did not mention that most of their ‘own people’ were already biotics.   
  
“From what we could tell,” Steve said slowly, “Alliance seems to be keeping it pretty hush-hush for now.  Not wanting to panic people any further.”  
  
As suddenly as it’d come on, the biotic bubble about Jack burst.  She rubbed one shoulder, then marched to the door, banged a fist uselessly against it, and didn’t go through.  When she’d seemed to calm down, Robert continued, “So, with the Catalyst online we thought we could get some answers.  It is being...less that cooperative.”  
  
“And you want Shepard to do something about that?”  
  
“No,” Robert shook his head.  “We want her to tell us what happened.  So we can fry the bastard.”  
  
“You said it was ‘online.’” Vega mused, “The Catalyst is a computer?”   
  
“A.I.,” Robert confirmed.  “We would try extracting the data ourselves, but no one is willing to meld with the thing.  We...fear it might be able to control us again, should we try it.”  
  
Turning from the door, Jack leaned back against it and scowled.  “So what?  One of  you isn’t willing to—”  
  
“Not one of us.  We’d still need to get the data from whomever extracted it, and the network runs like a virus.  There’s no logical way to extract what we need without opening us all up to the possibility of re-indoctrination, and we refuse to submit.    
  
“Can’t you use non-sentient, er, equip—devic—...” Tali rubbed one arm.   
  
“Equipment.”  It was impossible to read Robert’s expression, but he leaned a little more into Steve’s good leg.  Steve dropped a hand onto his shoulder.  “It has been broached.  But you do not know...You’ve never been...”  
  
“So you either need Shepard to talk, or you need an organic to try and extract the data,” Miranda said.  Everyone looked at her.  “Even though you realize organics can be indoctrinated as well.  You’re living proof.”  
  
“We weren’t going to ask that,” Robert said softly, “But I would argue that it takes more time for an organic to be overwritten than a synthetic.  No matter how practiced the Catalyst may be.”  
  
“It got to Shepard,” snapped Jack.  
  
“Shepard also had a lot of contact with these things,” mused Tali.  She looked at the door, and then back to Robert.  “All the ships are grounded.  Otherwise...”  
  
“No.”  Steve looked up, meeting her gaze.  “Not all of them.”  His hand squeezed Robert’s shoulder.    
  
“You can’t be serious,” Vega said, looking fast between the both of them.  Then he turned his gaze on Miranda.  “This is ridiculous!  They aren’t serious.”  
  
“I am serious,” Tali told him, tipping her head to one side.  “Would you argue if I were Shepard?”  
  
“You bet your ass I would!”  
  
“I’ll go with you,” said Jack.  “This son of a bitch owes us some answers.”  
  
All eyes fell on Miranda, who finally lifted hers from the floor.  “Alright.  Vega and I will stay with Shepard, you two, and the Cortez’s, will go with the Reaper.  However...”    
  
Looking Robert in the eye, and trying not to wince at the light, Miranda said, “Our conditions are that whatever we find we do not share it with the Alliance.  Not until I say so.”  
  
“But—”  Robert paused, and his eyes dimmed a moment as he reassumed that same ‘listening’ position.  “Alright.  We agree.”  
  
“Good.  Tali, Jack, the armory is yours.”


	7. Tali'Zorah

It was difficult to say what she’d expected the interior of a Reaper to be like—mostly because she’d refused to put too much thought into it.  It was at once a queasy proposition and an interesting one: living machines?  The ability for the synthetic to hot itself in, and overcome, an organic?    
  
This went far beyond medical prosthetics or enhancements, the sheer existence of it was extraordinary from a scientific viewpoint.  Over the past several years Tali had tried so hard to distance herself from her own curiosity.  And now here she was, inside a Reaper, all its secrets laid bare to her.  If she could get past the thousands of indoctrinated.    
  
Staring at the Kodiak’s viewscreen, Tali drew the thermal blanket a little more tightly about her shoulders and hoped her shivering was thought to be a mark of the cold, not her nerves.  In the pilot’s chair beside her, Steve lulled his head to the side to look at her.  “They can’t see you,” he reminded her, his voice quiet to keep from disturbing Jack who was, supposedly, sleeping in the back.    
  
“I know that.”  She’d forgotten.  It was difficult, when the viewscreen looked so much like a window, to remember that it was just projecting what cameras on the outside relayed in.  “Why do you keep it on, when there’s only...”  
  
“Them to look at?”  Steve pursed his lips, gaze once again focused on the scene before them.  The Kodiak was in something that resembled a cargo bay, just off where they’d been “beamed up,” as Steve put it.  Vega had snickered at that, calling Steve “Scotty,” which Tali could only assume was some sort of human cultural reference.    
  
A city of tents and shacks had been erected here, clearly thrown together from rubble collected on Earth; here was half a tin building, there a tattered blue tarp, across the way what looked like part of a boat...It may have been pure chaos if not for the attitudes of the creatures that inhabited it.    
  
Where Tali might have expected large amounts of hostility and violence, there was only quiet order and an attempt at comfort.  Near to the Kodiak was what looked like a community mess hall, with a row of workers doling out portions of food from behind several tables set in a line.  Everyone was  calm, patient;  they talked amongst themselves with seemingly little regard for differences in species or presumed gender.    
  
In a way, Tali thought she could understand: once you’d been through hell and back with someone, certain things you may once have thought to matter no longer seemed so important.  She doubted she’d ever feel this on so visceral a level, though.   
  
These people...if Robert was to be believed, they had not “merely” been stripped of themselves, they had been incarcerated within their own bodies, able to watch and understand as their physical shells performed whatever heinous acts the Reapers commanded.  How did one go through that and remain sane?  
  
She hadn’t meant to ask that aloud.  
  
“They all didn’t,” Steve said, looking at his hands.  “Those you see here...they’re the lucky ones.  They’re managing, though I’m not sure I’d say any of them are what you’d call ‘okay.’”  
  
Though she didn’t want to know, she couldn’t help but ask, “And those who didn’t...?”  
  
“Are elsewhere.”  For a moment his face hardened the same way Miranda’s did when she was going to refuse a subject for discussion.  Then Steve ran a hand through his hair—not unlike Vega did, Tali observed—and continued, “There’s about a million of them on board, if you can believe that. When they were being...controlled, there wasn’t much reason to think about personality conflicts or, ah, hygiene...any of that.”  
  
No, she really didn’t want to know.  “It doesn’t seem that bad here.”  
  
“We left some with...with the others.  But most of them are in other parts of the ship.  We’ve sealed this section off to keep the non-indoctrinated safe.”  
  
“You left them in those conditions?”  
  
“What choice do we have?”  A small muscle in Steve’s jaw began to twitch.  “If they let them loose there’s too much risk they’ll tear into any organic that strays too close.  It’s already happened a few times.  They’ll listen to the Reapers, still, but just barely.  Force of habit, I guess.”  
  
Tali allowed the silence to drift between them a moment as she wrapped her head around what he’d said.  Slowly, she asked, “So you’re telling me that there’s still a million hostiles on this ship with us.”  
  
“No, only about half that.”  
  
As if that made it any better.  “And you couldn’t tell us this before we boarded?”  
  
A flimsy barrier wave pulsed against the back of their seats.  “Somebody had better be fucking dead up there,” Jack growled from the passenger area.  Outside the Kodiak, a few nearby indoctrinated looked at them.  Fortunately, none moved to investigate.  
  
“Sorry,” Tali grumbled, more out of habit than actual remorse.  She settled back in her seat, still staring at Cortez.  
  
When they’d given Jack a little time to go back to sleep, Steve whispered, “You’re right.  I should have, and I apologize.”  
  
Tali took a deep breath and forced herself to relax.  It wasn’t as though she could stop her foot and demand the Reaper turn around.  ‘ _You got yourself into this mess, Tali’zorah, you can get yourself out._ ’    
  
“Is there anything else I should know?”  
  
Steve leaned back in his chair and propped his feet upon the dash.  It wasn’t something she’d ever have thought him inclined to do, given how fastidious he’d been about the Kodiak before.  But things changed, she guessed.  Rapidly.  
  
Or he’s indoctrinated, she thought and repress a shudder.  Since they’d figured out how to shield against such things all their suits had been outfitted accordingly.  Steve was no longer wearing his, however.  Had his shielding failed?  Had he, like Shepard, had his armor destroyed?  The shields would have gone with it, of course, and thus...  
  
He released a deep breath, his cheeks puffing slightly, then shook his head and wiped his mouth with the back on one hand.  “Not that I can I think of.”  Glancing at her, Steve shrugged lightly.  “To be honest, I question my own judgement in this.  A lot.”  
  
“You do?”  
  
He nodded, and wet his lips.  “Yeah.  Maybe I should have expressed this—no, I definitely should have said something before we left, but at the same time...Robert was right there.  He’s been through so much already, how can I undermine what hope he has left?”  
  
Even if she hadn’t spent much of the past few  years working with humans, Tali thought she’d still have heard the desperation in his voice.  Steve’s eyes were glossy, his fingers tight against his legs.  Shame prickled across her skin.  He wasn’t indoctrinated—or, if he was, it was negligible.  No one fully under a Reaper’s influence would be able to doubt themselves like this, to question the choices they were making; she’d never met one who bothered hiding their loyalty to the beast.  
  
“Can I ask...how is it you found him?”  
  
Sucking another deep breath, Steve replied slowly, “The Kodiak went down not too far from a unit of guerilla fighters—civilians who managed to survive in this, and had the nerve to take up arms.  Together, we pushed toward the main barricade.  We didn’t make it.”  
  
Steve rolled his shoulders, then lifted one hand to rub along his left as though it pained him.  “We were cut off by a whole boulevard teeming with the indoctrinated, more than I’d ever seen.  A Reaper had just touched down at the end of the street.  We found a bank still intact and holed up there.  
  
“For a while it worked.  It looked like they were more interested in obvious threats—we could hear gunshots going off somewhere nearby, and that was drawing the majority of their interest.  Then this kid..”  
  
He shook his head, swallowed thickly.  “A pair of husks went past, dragging this kid by their hair.  They were screaming, fighting, but they were too weak to get free.  Someone took a shot.  Next thing we know, we’re being swarmed.”  
  
“Keelah,” Tali breathed.  
  
“We had to fall back.  Some of the others broke off, sealed themselves into the bank vaults, but a handful of us were too far away.  We went out the back exit and fought our way through a few more blocks.  But we were almost out of ammo.  That’s when the explosion went off.”  
  
A weak little laugh broke through his lips, dry and unfunny.  “One minute there’s a husk on top of me, straining for my neck, the next it’s lit up like a christmas tree, scrambling away to cower behind the rubble.  Most were like that.  Cowering, whimpering, confused...”  
  
“And you..” Tali began, then stopped herself.  She remembered that moment all too well, when the fighting stopped like a switch had been flipped.  All the indoctrinated suddenly turned and fled toward the nearest Reaper.  Many of the soldier had begun whooping, screaming for joy, firing at the backs of the retreating army.    
  
She’d been one of them.  
  
“I still had the one cornered,” Steve said, so faintly she almost wasn’t certain what she’d heard.  He shuddered and rubbed his shoulder again.  “The other indoctrinated were fleeing for the Reaper, but I blocked this one’ path.  It just...stayed underneath a bit of concrete, it’s head between its knees, hands over its face.”  
  
For the first time since he’d begun his story, Steve met Tali’s eyes.  She noticed all the more sharply the bags under his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks.  “He begged me to kill him.”  
  
“Did you?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Tali continued to stare long after Steve broke his gaze.  His eyes turned, instead, to the crowd outside the Kodiak.  Distantly, Tali was aware of the faint murmur of the crowd drifting in through the speakers.  Somewhere in the distance an indoctrinated was laughing.  A pair ran by, chasing a ball like they were children.  They had conversations, they cried, they comforted, they played.    
  
But Tali couldn’t find it in her to think Steve’s action wrong, no matter that he clearly did.    
  
“I looked up...and everyone was gone.”  Steve had his head tipped back, eyes half lidded as he watched the indoctrinated, “So I just started walking.  Made my way back to the bank, found the vault blown open, everyone inside charred to a crisp.”  
  
His breath shook a little.  “Went back outside and...there was that kid.  The one the civvies tried to save.  He was crying and fighting, trying to get away from a husk that was clinging to him. They were too close, I couldn’t shoot...  
  
“The husk was begging him to listen to her, calling his name, sobbing that she was sorry.  Then he screamed ‘ _you’re not my mommy_ ,’ and she let him go.”  
  
Steve swallowed thickly, and sighed.  “He saw me and ran to me, clung to me.  Begged me to make the monster go away.  She just...sat on the pavement, watching us.”  
  
“What happened to the boy?”  
  
He shuddered at the sound of her voice, startled, and looked at her.  “Tyler’s here,” he said, seeming confused at reality.  Looking at his hands, he shook his head.  “She didn’t ask it of me, and I couldn’t.”  
  
Steve shrugged.  “I got him calmed down, and we...talked.  She was his mother, but he just wasn’t ready to accept that, and I...It wasn’t easy for me, either.  More husks began to show up.  Robert was with them.”  
  
Cupping the back of his neck with both hands, Steve stared at the ceiling of the Kodiak.  “Do you have any idea what that’s like?  To write someone off, to mourn for them, finally come to terms with it, and then they...they turn up as this?”  
  
“No,” Tali said softly, because she didn’t and couldn’t begin to imagine.  Shepard had come back from the dead, sure, but she’d come back reasonably whole.  These people would never be the same again.    
  
Steve muttered,  “For a while, I was damn sure I’d died and gone to hell.  Fucking confident of it.  I’m still not sure...”  
  
Eyes closed, the man silenced himself with tight lips.  He took a deep breath, two.  In a tight, even voice he said, “Robert...I couldn’t protect him before.  I’m going to now.”  
  
Biting her lip, Tali nodded.  She looked back to the viewscreen just as Steve stood up.  “I’m going to take a walk.”  A pause, “You could join me.”  
  
“No.”  Tali shook her head.  “Thank you.”  
  
Steve left the Kodiak without another word, the door settling back into place after him.  If that woke Jack, she didn’t say anything of it.   
  
Left to her thoughts, Tali drew her feet into the co-pilot’s seat and hugged her knees to her chest.  Through the vidscreen she watched Steve mill through the crowd, stopping to talk to the various indoctrinated.  She watched how he smiled, laughed, joked with them as though their conversation had never happened.  But then he looked back to the Kodiak, as though he could somehow feel her eyes upon him, and for a brief moment she saw it all again, barely hidden beneath the veil of normalcy.   
  
No, Steve was not indoctrinated.  He was in love, and it was killing him. 


End file.
